Queen of Hearts
by jess-eklom
Summary: A story about how a simple, blond piano player catches the attention of Trowa, a traveler passing though the saloon, but when the saloon’s most famous show girl shows interest in him, can he stand up to the temptation? 3 x 4 cussing in last chapter
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys.

The Queen of Hearts

Chapter 1: The Stranger, the Angel, and the Queen.

The piano music played on as yet another brawl ensued at the Hose Shoe Saloon. This was not an altogether uncommon occurrence, and so the band played on. Granted, at this time of day, the band only consisted of the lone piano player and his trusty ivories. Through the scuffle, the boy seemed impervious to the noise, as if it couldn't touch him or his music, and that, partners, is what attracted the attention of the figure sitting in the darkened corner of the Saloon. The stranger only been there for the day, but that day was spent admiring the blonde musician as the muscles of his back and arms shifted and moved in time with the music he pounded from the keys.

The stranger kept to himself, downing his bitter whisky in one go and nodding at the serving girl for a refill. His verdant eyes glued to the angelic piano player. Angelic, in this saloon? It seemed highly unlikely. In the light of day, the place looked shabby and pretty run down. The furniture was beaten and scratched and the floor had all sorts of wear and tear, but judging by the current brawl, the conditions of the place weren't a big surprise.

The bar was run by a burly man, clearly a foreigner, but who wasn't foreign in these parts? The man cleared six feet in height and it was clear that no one seriously got hurt in his bar. The man, Rashid, his name was, picked up the two bickering drunkards, one a chink and the other a native, if his braid were any indication, and bodily threw them out of his bar; another day, another scuffle, and still the music played on.

The musician himself was so grossly out of place. His fair skin and pale golden hair seemed to reflect the dim lights in the place, giving him a sort of eerie glow. It didn't help that the boy, surely no older than seventeen, dove into his music, giving himself heart and soul, to the notes that no one else seemed to appreciate. And just as the stranger was contemplating buying the young man a drink, for surely he needed it, the music stopped and stillness descended upon the room for a few precious seconds that seemed to stretch forever. Then the boy was gone.

Green eyes searched the room and noticed the swinging door beside the bar swaying and he made his move. He would have made it too had not Rashid clamped his hand on the stranger's arm and held him back.

"That's for employees only, Son," the man said, as he led the stranger away. "Have another drink and stay for a bit. The show starts in another hour."

It was a ploy to distract him from what lay behind the door, but he couldn't help but feel like child once more when standing next to Rashid. He himself was of an impressive height and his lanky build lent itself to the illusion of being taller than he was, but this Rashid dwarfed everything around him. How could such a bear of a man work so well amongst the breakable bottles of liquor behind the bar?

Suddenly there was music again, and his heart lightened. He turned around and looked to find the boy he'd named "Angel" in his head, but instead of golden hair, he found chocolate, instead of milky skin, he found golden. His hopes dashed, the stranger sat himself down and ordered another drink, resolving to stay in that spot until the angel came back.

The hour passed and Angel still hadn't returned. In the meantime, a game of cards had started and the stranger had been lulled into it after seeing that the drunks he was playing against were rather poor players. He played and lost every once in a while to avoid being called a cheater and instigating another fight, but he was beginning to tire of the game.

Suddenly, the music started up with a different feel. More instruments, a fiddle, an accordion, and some sort of percussion instrument were added to the medley but the piano was the dominant force. The tune turned lively and the lights dimmed. Outside, it was well past nightfall and an explosion of color ran through the dingy saloon. The place filled up rather quickly and girls clad in obscenely short corseted dresses paraded around the small platform area that served as a stage. Really, their enable could only be described as undergarments, no reputable woman would ever be seen in such scandalous garments outside of her dressing chamber, and much less in the gaudy colors that these garments came in.

The favorite cabaret girl seemed to be a petite blonde with pale skin and blue-green eyes. On her head, she had a headband with a sparkly jewel and feather that separated her airy bangs from the slightly darker coiffed curls on her head. Her arms were covered from the elbows down in black satin gloves and around her slim wrists, she wore jingling bangles. She was not voluptuous by any means and the tight teal satin corset she wore gave the illusion of a full figure. The corset was trimmed in black lace which became longer at the bottom of the corset to form a short skirt that really only covered the top part of her thighs. The lace in the back was gathered and decorated with feathers in such a way that every time she moved, the audience got a good glimpse of her black-satin clad backside. Her legs were encased in fishnet stockings that ended in short high heeled boots and were only interrupted by the matching teal garter she wore.

All in all, she wasn't that bad of a sight, and though she had something about her, the stranger could only look longingly at the piano bench and will it to trade the man currently sitting there with the angel from that afternoon. The song and dance ended and the girls began to make rounds, giving people their drinks, blowing on the cards for luck, and being groped at every turn in return for a giggle or outraged slap on the face of the man who dared. Then she was there again. Her pretty made-up face grinning at the stranger as she made her way onto his lap, heedless of the game of cards.

"What do you want, woman?" he asked, trying to ignore her and get back to his game.

"I've never seen you in these parts honey," she purred in a sweet voice straight into his ear, "and I never forget a handsome face."

"Go away."

"Aw, Darling, you don't mean that… at least tell me your name," she persisted, and whispered quietly into his ear, "The one on the left has two pairs."

The stranger looked at her oddly, why would she be giving him tips? "Tell me yours first."

"Well, around here, I'm known as the Queen of Hearts, but you can call me Q-baby… and the one across from you is bluffing," the last bit, she delivered in that quiet whisper so no one else would know what she was saying to him.

"Trowa," the green-eyed stranger said as he showed his hand, a straight, and collected his winnings.

"Trowa, huh?" she drawled, leaning in and kissing his lips lightly, "I like it."

The woman then made to get off his lap, shamelessly rubbing her backside against him and made her way around the tables, serving drinks and flitting away from unwanted advances. The rest of the night passed away in the same fashion; a song and dance every hour on the hour until three in the morning and that blonde coming back to the poker table and giving the stranger, Trowa, tips and letting him know when to call bluffs. He never lacked for a drink that night, and as he gathered himself to go spend the night at the local inn, he came away from the saloon not with Angel, as he had hoped, he'd not even gotten another glimpse of the boy that night, but instead with the garter that that pushy woman threw his way at the end of the night.

But why was he keeping it? It wasn't to remember her, no; it was for the boy that played the piano. Trowa smirked; perhaps staying in this town a little longer wouldn't hurt. As long as he kept his nose clean for the time being, he'd have time enough to find Angel and lure him into his bed… unfortunately, he still had a certain harpy to deal with.

Jess' rant:

Yes, I am back from the dead, and you all have the lovely Dentelle Noir to thank for pestering me to get this written. She can be tenacious when she sets her mind to it and would not go to bed until I'd written the first sentence to this and turned off my messengers. Also thanks to Persephone Choiseul for also encouraging me to write lately. With two people bugging me at the same time for the same general thing, it was only a matter of time before I caved. I am SUCH a people pleaser…

And on that note… if I get just ONE review that tells me 'this chapter is too short' or something similar enough, I am going BACK on HIATUS! If I can't please readers with my writing, I simply will not write at all. There, I said it; please don't let that discourage you from giving me all sorts of OTHER feedback… though I do prefer the constructive kind. All right, funny bunnies, until next time!


	2. Chapter 2

The Queen of Hearts

Chapter 2:

Quatre stretched a little as he made his way down the stairs of his tiny flat to head off to work. He was alone in this town, and had it not been for Rashid, the man who ran the Horse Shoe Saloon, he'd be out on the street. The intimidating man had taken Quatre in and given the boy a job as well as a place to stay in one of the tiny flats above the bar. The tiny one-room apartments were really nothing more than hotel rooms for the occasional traveler who could not get a room at the inn across the packed-dirt road, or the odd act that entertained every once in a while, but Quatre was glad with what he could get.

Quatre was a run away, or so people thought. The reality was that he had been kicked out of his home for reasons he wouldn't share. It hurt too much to relive the events that drove his father to throw him out on the street, but he wouldn't go back if he could. Quatre was beginning to make a life for himself in this little outpost town with the single railroad station, and he was quite enjoying himself too. The only problem was that money was always tight.

It wasn't as if Rashid overcharged the petit blond for room and board; that wasn't the case at all. Quatre just simply lacked the necessary skills to be able to hold a job like any other boy his age. Where others were tall and strong, Quatre was diminutive and rather delicate. He'd been raised in a privileged home and brought up on gentility, not the hard labor that made boys strapping. The only thing he really had going for him was his music, so he played piano for the patrons of the Saloon during the day. It wasn't a bad job by any stretch of the imagination, it's just that the pay was not that high and he rarely received any tips for a job well done, but he couldn't complain. There were other ways of making money.

Quatre smiled at Rashid as the man began opening up for the day. It was an hour 'til noon and an hour 'til opening. "Good morning, Rashid, how are you this morning?" Quatre greeted as he began re-shelving bottles as per his usual routine.

"Good morning, Son," Rashid smiled, "We have a Stranger in town."

"His name is Trowa," Quatre replied as he finished up with one box and began working on the next, "Or so I've heard."

"Trowa, is it? It's best to keep an eye on new people," Rashid observed dryly. He was busy wiping down glasses and setting them up along with the usual lime garnishes for later use. "We don't need any trouble around here."

At that Quatre laughed, "I doubt he'll be any trouble. He didn't so much as move when that fight broke out yesterday."

Rashid shrugged and walked out from behind the bar to start righting the chairs that were poised upside-down on the tables from last night. He kept up the light conversation as he worked, if only to fill the silence of their pre-opening ritual. "The Queen of Hearts really shone last night, it seems as though this Trowa character caught her eye," Rashid said with a knowing look at Quatre.

"Really?" Quatre asked. He was stacking empty crates after pulling out the bottles for Rashid and in the process of carrying the remains outside when that comment caught his attention. "And what was the crowd's reaction?" he called out from the next room.

Rashid waited until the boy came back in to help him right the stools at the bar before he answered, "Well, they were really excited to see Q-baby teasing someone all night. You know she only toys with customers playfully and even then, only for a moment before flitting away like a little vixen. Our regulars really enjoyed watching that stony stranger try to ignore her. It was really a spectacle worth watching." Rashid's eyes glittered in amusement and Quatre couldn't help but laugh.

"Is that so?" At Rashid's affirmative grunt, Quatre continued good-naturedly, "Then for the sake of your tip jar, I hope that stranger comes back tonight to cause another scene."

Rashid roared in laughter and clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder, "Go on, get to your piano. I'm about to open up."

Quatre grinned at him but did as he was told.

Trowa had a restless night. He could still feel Q-baby's kiss on his lips, but he couldn't get the face of his angel out of his mind. The boy really was too good to be true, and if Lady Luck was with him today, he'd speak to Angel before the boy disappeared on him again. Because he'd had such a hard time sleeping, he didn't wake up until three that afternoon. Stretching his limbs, the tall man stood from his position on the hard bed and began his daily routine of washing and changing.

As he was leaving the inn, he wondered if the Saloon served food as well or if it was only drinks that they offered their patrons. He was about to go in and find out when he saw a flash of gold around the side of the building. He followed it and found Angel sitting on a crate and sipping on a glass of lemonade and staring off into space.

"Piano man," Trowa whispered, making the boy jump, spilling some of his drink on the dirt in the process, "My apologies for startling you."

"It's quite all right," Quatre said as he looked up at the tall man and held out his hand. "You're the stranger everyone's been buzzing about," he grinned, "My name is Quatre, pleasure to meet you."

"Trowa," the other responded. "What are you doing out here?" Inwardly, he cringed at how callous he sounded, but his face remained as stony and impassive as ever.

"I'm on my break," Quatre shrugged, "Or at least I was… I have to get back now."

Trowa could only watch as the boy slipped away before his mind caught up with him. Shaking it off, he followed Quatre into the saloon and put his hand on the boy's shoulder before pushing him against the wall. "Play a song for me," Trowa purred as he leaned into the boy, their noses brushing against each other.

Quatre's eyes widened as Trowa invaded his personal space. He was sure he was just about to be kissed by the tall man, and couldn't decide if he was more relieved or disappointed, when Trowa backed off. Quatre nodded shakily but didn't get away before Trowa gently caressed his cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Thank you," Trowa's eyes were intense. They looked Quatre up and down as if he was starving and Quatre was a banquet. Trowa licked his lips and was about to lean in for a kiss and maybe more when a booming voice called out.

"Quatre! Where's the music, boy!"

Quatre jumped then, the spell broken, and headed over to his piano. And that's the way the afternoon went. Quatre played and Trowa admired him, all the time thinking about a way to lure the innocent-looking youth into partaking in more sordid activities. The smirk on Trowa's face said it all… too bad the little blonde couldn't see it.

Jess' Rant:

Thank you to all you lovely people who reviewed me. I haven't written since November, and I'm glad that there's still people out there who'll read my stuff.

For Flying Fish, I changed the summary, and also, you mentioned something about fan art. I am a little embarrassed to say that I couldn't help but do fan art for my own fic. You can find it at http // jess-eklom. livejournal. com /


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own the boys, obviously, and I don't own the song that I'm playing and inserting as dialogue. The song is "Nasty Naughty Boy" by Christina Aguilera. If y'all have heard it, it gives the right sort of feel as to what the atmosphere is tonight at the Horse Shoe Saloon (Dentelle WHY did you let me give it such a cliché name??).

(Dentelle: Because it was SOO cliché that I thought it was cute. And it's something that Rashid would come up with, really.

The Queen of Hearts

Chapter 3

Night fell and with the disappearance of Quatre, a myriad of people poured into the saloon. Apparently, tonight was a scheduled event if the excitement in the room was anything to judge by. The band was even different tonight… or perhaps yesterday's band was only temporary. Trowa didn't have much time to think about it because as the music started up and the lights fell, all attention fell onto the lone chair at the center of the stage, and the pretty woman who stood behind it.

The Queen of hearts was dressed as she was last night, with the exception that instead of a blue and black outfit, tonight's was blood red and black, making her look pale and glowing in a room full of dark, drab figures. She was very much a flame and Trowa felt like the moth that just couldn't get away.

"Well, we all know what tonight is, don't we boys?" She purred as she began to walk around the short stage as the crowd went wild, wolf-whistling at her and the other ladies that stood a little further to the back. Those girls, while pretty, weren't as alluring as the headliner. Q-baby daintily stepped off the small platform and began walking around among the patrons. "Tonight's show is going to be different than usual," the crowd cheered her on as she continued, "That's right, tonight I'm going to pick a very lucky man to come join me on stage…"

The men practically jumped out of their chairs to be picked, but she only gave them a coy smile as she shook her head, "No Darlings, I've already made my choice… and no one ignores the Queen of Hearts." At that, all eyes turned to Trowa, the town stranger, who was sitting at a poker table, waiting impatiently for the game to start, and squirming inwardly at the attention. She went up to him, and took his arm to lead him away from the table, which was just as well; the playing had stopped the moment the lights dimmed and she had stepped out on stage, "Come here, big boy."

As she walked up to the stage, the music became more sultry, and Trowa couldn't help but follow the woman, and sit on the chair, where indicated. She then circled around him, touching him with her satin-gloved hands, and singing in a very throaty bedroom voice, "You've been a bad, bad boy… I'm gonna take my time so enjoy…"

She stood behind him then, running her hands down his chest, over his shirt and making the men watching infinitely jealous. She continued to sing, Trowa's mind short circuiting as she touched him, but came back with a jolt as she sat on his lap and practically moaned out, "I'm going to give you a little taste, of the sugar below my waist, you nasty boy…"

That last line got them both a lot of cat calls and generally caused a commotion amongst the spectators. "I'll give you some Ooh la-la… Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" then she shifted on his lap and his mind took a second vacation. He was busy trying to translate that last line, when she was suddenly behind him again, "I got you breaking into a sweat, got you hot, bothered, and wet, you nasty boy…"

Trowa gulped and shifted, trying to hide what Q-baby had already noticed. The men in the audience whooped and whistled, and soon enough, she was taunting Trowa into spanking her. She stood in front of him, her backside pointing in his direction and leaned a little further forward so that he could now see the satin panties underneath the layer of feathers. Trowa gulped, and reached out. She _did_ have a very nice ass…

The men cheered him on as he touched the soft material covering her, then pulled his hand back and let a resounding slapping sound echo throughout the room. Trowa couldn't help but be attracted to the very determined female before him, and ignored the sounds of the others around them as the number ended and the rest of the show girls took their places on stage, giving both him and Q-baby the chance to escape out though the stage entrance.

"You did well," Q-baby said as she caught her breath from running off stage with him.

Trowa just nodded, not knowing what to say to that. She'd definitely worked her magic on him and he was thinking very ungentlemanly thoughts toward her, which further upset him because he felt he was betraying the piano man, Quatre.

"That performance wasn't all an act," Q-baby said as she came closer to Trowa and pretty much pinned him against the wall. She knew that everyone else was at the bar or performing, so none of the staff would be around to see this.

"What do you mean?" Trowa asked, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart picking up its pace.

"I mean…" Q-baby said, pressing up against him and placing her hands on his shoulders, "that I enjoyed that just as much as you did." She leaned up and kissed him fully on the lips. Trowa pushed her away, leaving her blinking startled.

"I… can't," Trowa ground out.

"Oh? And why is that?" she asked haughtily, affronted at being so coldly turned down by the only man she'd ever actually wanted, "You're too good for The Queen?"

"That's not it at all," Trowa said and gave her an infuriatingly cocky look, "You're beautiful, but I've had my eye on someone else."

She stepped back a little and gave him the once over, "So it's true. You're pining after the piano man that plays in the afternoons, aren't you?"

Trowa glared at her, becoming a little defensive, "What's it to you? And what would you know?"

"One of the girls saw you almost kiss the boy. It'd be a shame if word got out about the two of you…" she teased.

"It's not socially acceptable to love a man, you know."

Trowa growled at her then, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her against the wall, pinning her with iron strength, "Are you trying to threaten me? I don't take threats very well. If you hurt him, I swear I'll -"

"Don't _you_ threaten _me_," she hissed, "I was merely going to suggest that you can have the both of us."

"What do you mean?" Trowa asked, completely floored. What was this girl implying? He couldn't be with two people morally. She was beautiful, sure. She wasn't busty and had a very modest shape… that was part of why she was attractive to him; but still, if he had even the slightest chance with Quatre, he didn't want to mess it up for a one night stand.

Q-baby leaned in and gave him a heated kiss, "I don't do that for just anyone, you know. You're just… special."

Suddenly, she was gone, and Trowa could taste her lipstick on his lips and the fire of her touch on his skin. He'd never met anyone who lit his spark like she did. Hell, Ifif he hadn't met the piano player before the Queen, he may have even taken her up on the offer. She sure got him interested. But, he couldn't have both together. He couldn't believe that she would say such a catty thing about the pianist!

It was bad enough to like men in these times, but to say such impropriates against the blonde pianist? Perhaps they were feuding; he always seemed to leave before she came out. Perhaps they were related-- they were both radiant blondes... with deep blue eyes... Both were short...Both beautiful… but…

Just what would Q-baby look like without all that makeup?

Jess' rant:

Thank you to all who reviewed and special thanks to Dentelle Noir, who not only betaed this chapter, but pretty much wrote the closing paragraph. hugs I'm glad y'all are liking this fic so far!


	4. Chapter 4

The Queen of Hearts

Chapter 4

Quatre hurried up to his room after the performance was over. "Always leave them wanting more" was she showbiz motto, and after that little stunt he'd pulled on the crowd with Trowa, it was best if he wasn't seen for the rest of the evening. It would cause rumors to spread and generally be good for business. He closed his door and locked it for good measure, then leaned back against it and sighed.

"Did I really just do that? Did I really just touch him in public like that then kiss him _TWICE_ tonight?" He removed the partial wig he had on and placed it on its stand, and then he began to methodically remove the laces on his costume and put away the padding he used to give himself a female figure. He stripped slowly, tiredly, and then sat on the bed to remove the painful high-heeled short boots, followed by the garter and stockings. He stripped entirely, and then went into his tiny closet of a bathroom to wash off the sweat of the evening and the makeup he wore. It was just so easy to be The Queen; it was so easy to seem confidant and brash in that character. But when he looked up into the mirror, all that gazed back was Quatre: Nothing but a plain, runaway, piano player; and Quatre was scared to death at being found out.

And then there was the stranger, Trowa. He was tall, handsome, mysterious, and best of all, interested. Quatre smiled fondly at that as he finished washing off and slipped into a pair of linen pants to sleep in. Trowa had almost kissed him as Quatre, and was definitely interested in Q-baby. Maybe Trowa would be the one… Maybe.

Outside the rowdy bar, Trowa walked back to his room at the inn and had the hardest time falling asleep. He hadn't meant to stay around for long, but this town had two things that no other town he'd ever been to ever had, and both enigmatic blondes wouldn't get out of his head. He dragged himself up to his room and undressed for bed, but as he lay there, he couldn't get his mind to stop spinning round and round in circles. His lips still burned with the heated kisses The Queen had bestowed upon him; Queen of Hearts indeed. She had his wrapped around her dainty finger and yet they'd only really met twice. Both times, she'd managed to kiss him.

Then on the opposite end of the spectrum was Quatre. These two blonds were as different as night and day! It seemed like the only thing they had in common was blonde hair and blue eyes. Quatre was sweet and shy and very male; Q-baby was sensual, commanded the attention of the room, and though she lacked a curvy female shape, what she had, she flaunted shamelessly.

Trowa groaned and rolled over on the bed, He couldn't decide at this point which he wanted more; did he want the sweet, virginal allure that Quatre exuded or was he after the feisty, in-your-face seduction of The Queen?

And for that matter, just what was she talking about tonight? Was she really threatening both Quatre and Trowa with what she knew? And for what gain? Trowa growled softly. This was NOT going to let him sleep any time soon. He rolled off the bed and leaned out the open window. If he leaned out a little and turned his head, he could see the Saloon across the road. There was music playing in the air and he could hear the drunken patrons singing along off-key with the rest of the girls, but Q-baby had disappeared. He'd loitered around the outside of the bar for a few minutes to see if he could hear her singing on stage again, but he knew she'd not gone back to the crowd. If only he hadn't been caught so off guard, he might have made note of where she'd run off to.

Just then, one of the lights above the Saloon caught his attention. He couldn't see inside, the window was on the other side of the building, but the light shone through the window and cast an odd rhomboid shape on the wall of the stables. He saw the shape of a person (thin by the look of it) walk around for a minute before leaving the area from around the window, but the light remained on. Hurriedly, he put on his pants, tossed on his shirt, and stomped into his worn boots on his mad dash out.

It was just a hunch, but something told him that the answers to his questions could be found there… in the one lit window of the otherwise dark second story. He ran across the road and skidded to a halt outside the window. He stood there like a mad man, waiting for a glimpse of anything, knowing full well that this whole endeavor was probably pointless and that the person that the shadow he'd seen belonged to was very likely not one of the people he wished it'd belonged to. He stood there for another few moments, and was rewarded by a flash of bond hair and pale skin before the light in the room died away.

Back in the bedroom, Quatre couldn't rest with the noise going on down stairs and the vibrations of the floor and bed beneath him as the band played on. He sat up tiredly in his bed and wearily rubbed his eyes. This whole situation with Trowa was eating at him. Never before in all his life had anyone stolen his calm as Trowa had. He stood and after letting his eyes rest on a battered, old case, resting in the corner, he made up his mind and simply put on a linen shirt and then slipped on an old, tattered blue dressing robe. He took out the contents of the case and, after blowing out the light from the bedside lamp, he took up his small lantern and made his way out of his room on bare feet toward the stables. No one would be around anyway. The people who were awake were at the bar, and the rest were at home, piously resisting the evils of drunkenness and womanizing and gambling.

He didn't mind the few rocks at his feet and for the most part, the packed dirt was soft against his feet. In fact, the few rocks he came upon were well-worn and rather welcome as they helped to ease out the soreness that he felt in the arches of his feet from wearing ladies' shoes. He made his way into the stable, completely missing the shadowed form that had caught the small lantern light that exited the back of the Saloon and was following silently behind him. He walked to the center of the stables and placed the lantern on the floor, making sure that the light was dim enough not to cause anyone suspicion, but the glow was enough to let him see somewhat in the darkness.

He closed his eyes then, and raised his instrument to the juncture of his neck and shoulder and with a final sigh, he brought the worn bow against the strings of his beloved violin and let his hands and fingers spill the contents of his soul to the peaceful beasts that were his captive audience. Time seemed to still, yet pass, in a paradoxical way. It felt as though he'd spent an eternity sharing his grief and anxieties with the majestic creatures that rested in their stalls, but at the same time, it felt as if he'd run out of things to express almost as quickly as he'd begun.

He let out a shuddering breath as the final notes escaped his prized possession and he slowly pulled it from its nested place beneath his chin to dangle in weary fingertips. He felt as if the music that had poured out of him had left him empty and exhausted enough to go back to bed and fall into a dreamless sleep. He was just about to do that, picking up his small lantern, when he heard a noise behind him.

The sudden sound startled him enough to drop the lantern and with its fall, the flame within died. There wasn't nearly enough kerosene in it to keep the small flame big enough to illuminate a room on its own; it barely had enough to keep it going until Quatre could buy more to put into it, which was lucky, considering how much dry hay was laying on the ground.

"Who's there?" Quatre asked suspiciously. He didn't dare try to pick up the battered lantern; it was better to try and find whoever was in there with him. "What do you want?"

"You play beautifully," a soft voice said from the shadows. Quatre could hear footsteps crunching on the hay as the person walked away from the entrance of the stables and closer to him.

"Who are you?" Quatre asked. The voice was giving him goose bumps; it was silky and smooth… like black velvet, making his knees weak.

The figure came a little closer and stepped into a beam of moonlight that broke through the darkness, thanks to a hole in the roofing. The place he, himself, had been standing in a few moments before… before he'd backed away from the sound of another person in the building. As the figure came into view, Quatre couldn't help but feel the breath catch in his throat and his heart beat accelerate... it was Trowa.

He prayed that Trowa didn't find out about him yet, that he'd washed off all traces of Q-baby, that his no longer had a lingering trace of her perfume.

"I didn't know you were more than just a piano man," Trowa said in a dangerously sultry voice. "Where do you always run off to? I was hoping we'd get a chance to get to know each other a little more…"

Was Trowa really that interested in him or was he just toying with Quatre?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quatre said, trying hard to seem indifferent and just walk away. He couldn't do this. He couldn't talk to Trowa like this as Quatre. He needed The Queen of Hearts; she was the shameless flirt, the confidant one. Where was his mask when he needed it?

Trowa suddenly grabbed him by the waist and held him tightly, making Quatre realize exactly how big their height difference was and just how good Trowa's arms felt as they tightened around him.

"You're driving me crazy, Angel," Trowa whispered heatedly into Quatre's ear. "What will it take for you to give me the time of day? You're beautiful, Quatre, let me… let me…" With that, Trowa's lips descended on Quatre's, kissing the boy hungrily, and Quatre couldn't help but give in. He'd dreamed of being kissed like this since he'd imposed his own kisses on Trowa, but the ones they'd shared before were nothing like this. This kiss was different, possessive, protective, demanding. It was everything he ever wanted, and Trowa was giving it to him, as Quatre, and not as the Queen!

Just then, he heard noises outside of the barn, coming from the direction of the front of the Saloon. The bar must have been closing and he couldn't afford to be caught like this. "We can't Trowa!" he whispered harshly, as he began to panic. He shoved Trowa away with all his might, dropping his beloved violin in the process and ran out the back entrance of the stables. He ran all the way into the building, up the stairs, and into his room, his heart thumping madly in his chest.

Yes, he'd told Trowa, as Q-baby, that Trowa could have them both, but now that he was faced with the reality of potentially being caught as a man, _with_ a man, he didn't think he could handle it.

"You, Quatre," he whispered to himself as he made his way to the bed and flopped down on it, "are an idiot."

Jess' Rant:

Just one more chapter to go, people! Again, thank you to the lovely Dentellenoir for being my lovely beta, without whom, this chapter (heck, this STORY) would not be possible.

Flying Fish: I'm glad you noticed the rift in Quatre's personality. It's a coping mechanism and a legitimate (and rather common) psychosis in strippers and other nocturnal entertainers . 

Also: I reply to all reviews as long as I have somewhere to reply… FYI.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: This is the last chapter in this short story. Thank you for all who reviewed, it helped me get this story written as quickly as it was...

The Queen of Hearts

Chapter 5

Trowa had difficulty getting to sleep that night, but when he finally managed to get the two blondes out of his head, they just re-appeared in his dreams. He could hold, and kiss, and touch Quatre as much as he wanted, but the blonde in his arms kept shifting between the Queen of Hearts and the Shy Piano boy. He could tease and hold and play with the wild Queen, and still have Quatre at the next kiss whenever he wanted one or the other. That was the beauty of dreams… he could have the one body morph from one blonde to the other.

When he awoke the next morning, he made sure that he paid enough to stay for at least another week and made his way across the road to the Horse Shoe Saloon: Home to the two biggest mysteries of the west which he was determined to solve.

He took his regular seat in the saloon, but Quatre was doing his level best to ignore the presence that had come into the bar. Quatre's playing never faltered, but he felt a pair of green eyes boring holes into his back as he played. He became a hundred times more conscious of what was happening in the room, but he couldn't let Trowa distract him. The show must go on!

The hours ticked by, Trowa sometimes asking for a song, but otherwise, nothing happened. Quatre made sure that they both weren't alone at any given point. When his set was up, Quatre was glad to see that Trowa immersed in a poker game; leaving him one golden opportunity to get out before Trowa noticed.

"DAMMIT!" one of the other players (a regular with a long braid), yelled. "The Queen of Hearts has it in for you! How the HELL did you manage to win with a royal flush in _hearts_ for the third time in a row?!"

"Maybe you should learn to shuffle better," said another voice, belonging to the man with the dark hair and blue eyes.

There was grumbling and the sound of cards being shuffled and re-shuffled as Quatre snuck out of the main room. He let Rashid know that he was done for the day, as per custom, and then ducked upstairs to change for the evening. He washed and began putting on the stockings and garter belt first, thinking about Trowa and what he would do to him as the Queen tonight in retaliation for last night. The thought of touching Trowa again made him both blush and grin. As The Queen, he could get away with such things, as Quatre, he couldn't, and he was planning of taking advantage of every liberty being Q-baby would grant him tonight! He'd managed to tug on his corset and black lace panties, but he had yet to don the short skirt that went with this outfit for now. He was always short on money because of the costumes he bought for his 'Queen of Hearts' act, but as The Queen, he made more than enough money to pay for it. In fact, even with the added expense, he was actually living better than he would have been living with only a piano player's wages. He was in the process of applying rouge to his lips when there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Quatre called out, his hands stilling.

"Quatre, it's me, Trowa," the voice called out from the other side of the door. "I have your violin."

"One moment please!" Quatre called back as he scrubbed away the makeup, tugged on a pair of pants, and hastily buttoned a shirt on over his corset. He was glad at that moment that the wig was always the last thing he donned, and quickly made a sweep of the room. He tossed everything Q-baby-related into the tiny bathroom and closed the door, making sure that the doors to the small armoire he owned were also closed shut.

He was flushed from running around by the time he opened the door and pulled Trowa inside. He knew that it was dangerous for Trowa to be here. Some of the girls thought that Quatre and Q-baby were siblings sharing this room. He couldn't have Trowa be seen around here. He looked out the door and spotted Rashid coming up the stairs. The man gave Quatre a concerned look, telling him that he'd tried to keep Trowa out, and Quatre could only nod.

"I'll let everyone know she won't be performing tonight," Rashid said, with an understanding look in his eyes.

"Thank you," Quatre said, then turned around and closed the door behind him. Trowa was standing by the small window, staring over at the stables below, the violin resting on Quatre's bed.

"Where is she?" Trowa asked as he turned around, green eyes blazing. He was mad, jealous, and felt completely betrayed. He'd come into the room and the whole place smelled like her. Like Q-baby. He knew that it could have just been a spilled perfume bottle that could have marked her presence in the upstairs rooms, but he spotted a gold and black garter on the floor, halfway under the bed. He picked it up while Quatre was speaking to someone at the door and fisted it tightly. In his mind's eye, he remembered how harried Quatre had looked when he opened the door. He had looked disheveled, flushed, and had a trace of smeared rouge on his lips… and now he was standing there, red-tinged mouth agape as he stared at Trowa, blue eyes wide.

"Where is who?" Quatre asked; his heart was pounding in his chest like a caged hummingbird. It was too soon! This couldn't be happening!

Trowa snarled, he hated being messed with, and Quatre was obviously playing dumb. He grabbed the collar of Quatre's shirt with both hands and shoved him against the locked door. "Don't fucking lie to me, Quatre," he growled, "You know who I'm talking about. Where the fuck is Q-baby? You're sleeping with the whore, aren't you?"

Quatre felt like he'd been slapped in the face, for all his attitude as The Queen, he was still untouched, how dare Trowa call him a whore?! "I am not sleeping with Q-baby," Quatre said coldly, prying Trowa's hands from his shirt, but Trowa would not let go, and merely shoved him against the door again.

"Bullshit! You smell like her, I found THIS on your bed," he said, holding up the gold garter, making Quatre wince at his having missed it during his hasty sweep of the room, "and your fucking lips are stained with her rouge." Trowa was seething, "I hate being fucked with, and I hate being lied to more. I want the truth now, Quatre. Are you fucking her? Is that why you keep pushing me away?" The last question held a significant amount of pain as it was delivered. Quatre wouldn't have been able to lie to him even if he wanted to… but right now, he wanted to come clean.

"I will tell you everything…" Quatre began, "But first, I need you to let go of me and answer something for me as honestly as you can."

Trowa let go of him and backed away a step, "What is it?"

"Are you interested in being with me, or with her? Which one do you want?"

Trowa growled, "What does it matter? You're both obviously unavailable!" This was really tearing him up. He wanted them both, but he'd seen something in Quatre that he wanted to protect.

"Please… just… just answer," Quatre begged.

"I want you both, okay?!" Trowa snapped. He wasn't good at this sort of thing and he was infuriated at being toyed with by both blondes. Was this all a game? What did they stand to gain? He couldn't tell Quatre about all the indecent things he'd wanted to do to them both, but the hungry look in his eyes gave him away.

Quatre then did the unexpected: he leaned forward and kissed Trowa softly. The kiss seemed familiar, passionate and affectionate, but Trowa just pushed him away roughly, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Tell me what the fuck is going on."

Quatre straightened from where he'd almost fallen over at being shoved so harshly. "Open the bathroom door," he said.

Trowa glared at him for stalling and went to the door. When he opened it, he had been expecting to see a half-naked Q-baby awaiting him with a harsh tongue and a slap. Instead, he found stockings hanging from the shower rail, garters drying on lines in the bathtub, makeup scattered on the counter along with bottles of perfume, and finally, a golden blonde wig sitting innocuously on a stand by the sink. What was going on here?

Trowa turned around to ask just that, but what he saw made the words stick in his throat. Before him, was Quatre…Quatre was standing there in ladies' stockings, a garter belt, black lace panties (which did not hide the obviously MALE attributes), the gold and black corset that matched the ornamental garter Trowa held in his hand, and the blonde was in the process of slipping on a short black skirt with ruffles that offered a minimum amount of modesty.

"Q-baby?" Trowa asked, his voice cracking just a bit, Quatre just looked up from where he finished fastening the skirt and gave him a tiny smile, "QUATRE?! Y-you're… you and she are one and the same?" Quatre just shrugged a little, looking very nervous. Trowa couldn't take this and just sat down on Quatre's bed. Thankfully, the violin was at the foot of it, and didn't get crushed beneath his weight.

Quatre was fidgeting and needed something to do. Seeing that his violin was in danger being out in the open, he put it away, vowing to look it over later for damage from where he had dropped it. When that task was done, and with no where to go, he tentatively went to sit next to Trowa.

Trowa meanwhile was stuck. His brain just wasn't dealing with this well and all he could think about was that he wouldn't have to pick between blondes… but could he even trust them – him, her? What _was_ Quatre? He was too pretty to be a boy, and she was too flat to be a girl, and after long minutes of agonized silence, Trowa finally broke the silence.

"Which is the real you?" he asked quietly, looking down at his hands and pointedly NOT looking at the person sitting beside him.

"I was born Quatre Winner and I was disowned for having an attraction to men," Quatre whispered.

"And why the act?" Trowa asked, still not looking at him.

"I needed the money… It was easy to pretend I was someone else, entertain for the money. All I had to do was sing, dance, and allow a few men to pinch my ass before I slapped them," Quatre answered honestly.

"I meant with me," Trowa sighed, "Why didn't you tell me? Were you just playing with me?" He then waited for the answer with baited breath as Quatre took a deep breath.

"I was afraid. _This, _what we have between us right now, isn't accepted and you know it. I…I figured… if… if you liked me as Q-baby also, then maybe we could work something out…" Quatre was nervous, and well… downright scared. What if Trowa didn't want this? What if Trowa left?

"When were you planning on telling me?" Trowa asked, trying to keep his anger in check.

Quatre gulped, "If not tonight, then the day after…I just wanted to make sure that you also wanted Q-baby… I… I'm sorry."

"Does anyone else know?" Trowa felt compelled to ask.

"Only Rashid and his wife… she's the one that makes all our costumes, and Rashid gave me the job and a place to stay when I had less then nothing."

Trowa then turned to Quatre, "This is going to take me a while to think about…" Quatre just nodded, feeling his heart break and seeing his chance of being with Trowa go out the window. "But until then…."

Quatre gasped as Trowa crushed their lips together then moaned as Trowa pushed him down onto the bed, a hand reaching down between them and kneading Quatre's groin. Trowa smirked and took the opportunity to delve his tongue into Quatre's sweet mouth. When they broke apart, Trowa's verdant eyes were ablaze with heat and desire, "I'm going to fuck you all night, Q-baby… you're mine now."

"Call me Quat," the boy beneath him purred as he reached out for Trowa and pulled him down for another kiss.

--Epilouge--

I remember all the fuss for a long time after that. Q-baby never did come down that night, and we were disappointed. The blonde piano player disappeared after that day, but no one really paid him any mind. The rumors said that he left after the stranger made an honest woman out of his sister. Yes, sister. Many were shocked to find out that Q-baby had a brother, but it explained why he was never seen amongst the patrons when the show-girls were out. Many figured he couldn't bear to look at his sister when she was dressed like that.

And so… the man who was once a stranger in the town fell in love with The Horseshoe Saloon's brightest star and was no longer known as the stranger.

Later, he became deputy sheriff after proving his skill with a gun when a band of armed highway men came roaring into town, guns blazing for show. He'd helped Sheriff Yuy bring down the band and was then seen as one of the town's heroes.

As for Q-baby, she changed her stage name from the 'Queen of Hearts' to 'Queen B' after she married the new deputy sheriff, Trowa Barton and took on his name. Also, after that day, no one was allowed to call her 'Q-baby' other than her husband, so she was addressed as Ms. Quat by the people in town. She still sang and danced at the Saloon, but now she would not leave the stage. Her costumes were still corsets, but the skirts came all the way down to her ankles, and she mostly devoted her time to helping create costumes for the shows, or playing the piano or violin for the performances. As the times passed, she and her husband helped Rashid and his wife turn the Saloon into a theatre, where many famous acts came to perform. Some of these acts included the mysterious masked magician, Zechs Marquise, and an up and coming Opera debutante Relena Peacecraft. Ms. Quat spent the majority of her life working at the little theatre until it was no longer "little" and their town flourished into a city.

In her old age, Ms. Quat gave music lessons and her husband became well known for the stories he told about his youth and his travels. By the time they'd reached their golden years, Trowa Barton was a well known author and his petite wife, a matron of the arts in the area.

The pair lived long and no one questioned it when Ms. Quat could not conceive… it was for the better, really. No child should have a mother that worked entertaining all her life, like she did, or so the old wives said, though they all loved Ms. Quat to death.

The two lived out the rest of their long lives in a house they'd built together, without anyone else ever finding out the truth. On the outside, they were a perfect, loving couple with a few idiosyncrasies and petty squabbles between them. It was only natural really, with such a willful woman and such a stubborn man… and that, ladies and gentlemen is the west's best kept secret.

"The show must go on!" Ms. Quat would say, and so they both played their parts flawlessly in public, but in private, they had the hottest, most mind-blowing passion burning between them, filling countless nights with ecstasy … all under the careful guise of a man and the Queen of Hearts.

Owari

Jess' Rant: Again, thank you, Dentelle, for all your help! hugs Remind me to buy you a cookie or mango with chile at Y-con, kay?

SO! How'd y'all like it? I hope the ending met expectations… umm… yeah…

Again, thank you all for sticking with me. I had fun writing this and until next time, take care, you funny bunnies! .


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